


Will You Shrink and Hide

by danger_floof



Series: Meet Your Bride [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ASL, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Canon don't talk to me about canon, Clint Barton has great taste in cookware, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Light Angst, Meet-Cute (sorta), More tags as events warrant, Nonverbal Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, WinterShock 5ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danger_floof/pseuds/danger_floof
Summary: Bucky Barnes used to be good with women. Now a gorgeous dame walks in the door, and he panics.A story about hiding, and what it takes to let yourself be found.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spin-off from my meet-cute series [How Are You Going to ...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12211440/chapters/27733746)
> 
> Content note: this work features a recovering Bucky and contains descriptions of anxiety and negative self-talk. Descriptions come from my own experience, but of course, YMMV.

Bucky Barnes crouched down further underneath the counter in the Avengers’ common kitchen and gave himself a stern talking-to. “Come on, Barnes,” he whispered savagely. “You can do this. It’s a pretty girl, not a firing squad.”

Thing was, he used to be _good_ with women. Everyone said so. He even remembered, a little, how it felt: the easy smiles, the right words, the sizzle in his blood that meant things were going well. But now? Now a gorgeous dame had walked through the front door of the Tower and all Bucky felt was panic.

He could hear the others out in the main room making small talk with the newcomers, the rumble of Steve’s voice ( _probably making excuses for you, for you,_ his brain whispered). He wanted to go out there. He really did. He just … couldn’t.

“Okay,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “Slow breaths … easy … you can do this. Everything will be okay. Fear is just your brain trying to protect you. You’re hiding now so that you can work through it and come out stronger.”

“Yeah!” a woman’s voice whispered behind him. “What are we hiding from?”

“ _Jesus fuck!_ ” The next thing Bucky knew, he was on his feet facing her, hand curled around the nearest weapon.

The pretty girl he’d seen on the security monitors smiled up at him from where she was crouched on the floor. “Hi!” she said brightly.

He pressed his free hand to his chest, trying to slow his racing heart. “Doll, you can’t just sneak up on me like that! I’m an assassin for chrissakes, I coulda killed you.”

Her eyes dropped from his face to his hand. “With a spatula?” she said.

He looked down at his ‘weapon’ for the first time and grimaced. It was, indeed, a spatula. Not even a metal one — a purple plastic one with a handle shaped like a smiling whale. Clint’s choice, if he had to guess. “Yeah, probably,” he admitted, putting it down and running his hand through his hair. “Never tried.”

“Huh. That’s kind of cool.” 

What? No it wasn’t. It was terrifying. Why wasn’t she terrified?

Instead, she hauled herself to her feet ( _should I offer her a hand, oops too late, dammit Barnes_ ) and held out her hand with no fear whatsoever. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

“Bucky.” He shook her hand, and that was fine, it was normal. He even managed to smile a little, and felt a trace of the old sizzle when her smile widened in return. This was … this was going okay. But even as he thought it, he realized he had no idea what to do next. The sizzle drowned in another wave of panic.

The silence stretched. He couldn’t hold her gaze, so he let his own slip to the floor: she was wearing beat-up gray sneakers with Thor’s hammer drawn on them in Sharpie. He knew Sharpies because he wrote with them sometimes during his early recovery, when his fine motor control wasn’t good enough to use a pen.

“Okay,” she said finally, “good talk. If I ever need a dude killed with a spatula, I know where to go. I’m gonna head back out there, do you wanna …”

He couldn’t stop his flinch. _Great, Barnes, just great. Hiding under the counter and now this. How else do you wanna embarrass yourself in front of this dame, huh?_

She pulled back, her palms up and out in the universal signal for non-threatening. “No, right, okay,” she said, her tone casual even though Bucky was sure he looked like something that belonged on Wild Kingdom. “Well, I’ll see you around then! If you ever need an accomplice for the whole, you know …” she gestured at the counter where he’d been crouched, “I work down on the 40th floor and I make a mean pillow fort.”

40th floor was a lab floor. He flinched again. The only lab he was comfortable in was Stark’s, and even that was only in the last month. And, if he was honest, only because Stark was too irritating to be Hydra.

He pulled his head back to the present and tried to say some kind of normal goodbye, but the girl was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's second meeting with Darcy doesn't go much better, but at least there are no spatulas involved.

The next week, Darcy and another woman were with Thor when he came upstairs for their semi-weekly team dinner. Bucky had been having a good day, sparring with Natasha and trading jokes about the old days with Steve, but as soon as he saw her he felt the words deserting him.

Clint jumped off the counter and sidled up to him as the others exchanged greetings. “Okay, Bucky?” he said quietly. Bucky had learned by now that Clint’s codename didn’t just refer to his marksmanship. It was okay, though — nice, even, to know that someone cared enough to notice.

He spread his left hand and tapped his thumb against his chest the way Clint had taught him for just this reason. His voice went away sometimes, but voices weren’t the only way to talk. [Fine.] He shrugged a little and wiggled both his hands, thumbs and first two fingers out, palms down. [Awkward.]

Clint glanced around, then grinned and signed back, his hands fast and assured in a way Bucky couldn’t yet match. [Because of the pretty girl? Your heart fluttering?] He fluttered his eyelashes along with his fingers.

Bucky flushed, then glared when Clint’s grin turned into a chuckle. He pointed at the corners of his mouth and flicked his fingers upwards, the sign for ‘laugh,’ but kept his face stony and expressionless.

“Aw, no fair, Robocop, I wanna play!” Stark said, and Bucky’s flush deepened when most of the room turned to look at them. “I swear you two only do that so you can talk shit about me.”

“Nothing stopping you from learning, Tony,” Clint said wearily. It was an old argument. Also pointless, because Bucky knew for a fact Stark understood sign just fine. He’d probably started learning as soon as Bucky moved in, though of course he’d never admit it. It was exactly the kind of stealth kindness maneuver he excelled at, and it baffled Bucky that no one else seemed to have noticed.

Still, not his place to blow Stark’s cover. He tapped Clint on the shoulder and signed slowly, [If I talk shit, I’ll say it to his face.]

Tony barked a laugh just a fraction of a second before Clint was done interpreting. Seriously, did he think he was being subtle? Some spies these people were.

Bucky shot a glance at Darcy, hoping she wasn’t watching, but of course he wasn’t that lucky. Her bright blue eyes were wide with what looked like curiosity. Did she think it was weird that he’d spoken before but not now? She waved, and he looked away, embarrassed.

Clint caught the movement and shot Bucky a smirk. Oh great, _this_ he noticed.

“Oh right!” Tony said, “you guys haven’t met yet! Foster,” he said to the woman Bucky didn’t know, then turned to leer at Darcy, “and Foster’s shapely intern, have you guys met — ow!”

Bucky had moved on instinct the second he saw the leer, crossing the room to smack Stark on the back of the head. He lowered his hand (the right one, he wasn’t trying to cause actual damage) and glared when Tony turned. [Rude,] he signed sharply. [Apologize to her.]

“Okay, okay, Jesus!” Tony rubbed his head. “That 1940s chivalry dies hard, huh? Sorry, Lewis,” he added as an afterthought, but his tone was sincere.

Bucky looked at Darcy, ready to pursue it or let it go on her cue.

_(“Wait,” Clint said suspiciously in the background, “how did you know what he said?”_

_“Context clues, Barton, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist. Although I am one.”)_

She winked at him. “It’s cool, old man, you’re like my grandpa,” she shot back at Tony, and grinned at his wail of anguish. Bucky felt the corners of his mouth twitch a little.

“How am I the old man when there are two ninety-year-olds in the room —” Tony began. 

“Wait,” Darcy said, her eyes wide, “two ninety-year-olds? Who's the … ohhhh wow.” Bucky flinched and dropped his head, but too late. “Bucky,” she said slowly, and he felt his left hand clench, plates whirring. “I should have — I didn’t even think. You’re Bucky Barnes, aren’t you?”

A couple of words came swimming up through his brain. “I was,” he said, his voice rough in his throat, and left the room before she could respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in [brackets] are in American Sign Language. 
> 
> Unless otherwise specified, bracketed text is a translation into English, not a direct transcript of the signs used. (For example, [Apologize to her.] would be the sign for "sorry/apology" + an indicator sign specifying who is being talked about.) Wherever possible, I'm trying to keep ASL grammar and idioms in place -- like when Clint signs [Your heart fluttering?] to suggest that Bucky has romantic feelings for Darcy -- but I also want to make the meaning clear for English speakers.
> 
> NB: I am Hearing, so my representation of ASL and the Deaf Community is filtered through my own culture and privilege. If anything I write is inaccurate or insensitive, please let me know so I can fix it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If hiding from one girl was what it took to keep everything steady and safe, well, then Bucky would do that. Too bad avoiding Darcy might be easier said than done.

The next few weeks, Bucky made a point to be anywhere that Darcy Lewis wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly hard — for one thing, they were only two out of many people in a very big tower, and for another he had seventy years of covert ops experience to call on. If she came down the hall, he went up the stairs, into a storage closet, or on one memorable occasion, feet first into a laundry chute. (It was actually pretty comfortable — led to a basket that was half-full of towels and exactly wide enough for his shoulders. He started hanging out there on days when Clint didn’t want company in the air vents.)

He tried to complete the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ plan by not thinking about her, but it wasn’t easy. He might be out of her sight, but she wasn’t out of his. Part of his job as the Tower’s resident ‘security specialist’ (read: most paranoid person in this or any building) was to monitor video from the public floors for suspicious activity. That included the 40th floor labs. He didn’t linger any longer there than anywhere else, but he always felt his heart beat faster when he flipped to that channel.

He didn’t know what Darcy’s job was, but it looked like fun. She seemed to spend all her time making snacks and skipping around in a never-ending parade of ridiculous hats. She was always dancing or singing along to whatever was on her earbuds, too, and he wished he could ask her what it was. Unlike Steve, who clung stubbornly to his old records, Bucky loved the music in this century. The louder the better — buzz-saw treble and crashing bass ground away his thoughts and quieted his mind.

He wished he could ask her a lot of things.

This was okay, though. It was fine. His world was small, but it was good. He had friends, he had hobbies, he’d been making good progress in therapy, and he was never hungry or cold or in pain. If hiding from one girl was what it took to keep everything steady and safe, well, then he’d do that.

***

It was a good plan. It would sure as hell be a lot easier if _some people_ would follow it.

***

Two months after Darcy first arrived, Bucky was in the gym keeping up his steady romance with the punching bags. The door slammed open behind him, and he flicked an irritated glance at whoever was throwing off his flow. Natasha, in her usual black, smirked at him and made a ‘come in’ gesture to —

The bag almost hit him in the face.

“Oh hey!” Darcy said, sounding just as surprised as he was. She was wearing bright pink workout pants and a baggy t-shirt that said _Interns do it for free_. Her hair was tied back and she was hat-less for the first time he could remember.

She was so damn pretty. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that, it was just that he’d gotten used to seeing it from the safety of a video screen. It was … different … to see her in person. And those pants were very tight. Not that he was looking.

He cleared his throat. “Hey,” he managed after a second.

Nat, who knew exactly when he worked out, raised her eyebrows. “Barnes, what a surprise!” she said sweetly. “Mind if we join you?”

“ _I will murder you in your sleep, Romanov_ ,” he said, equally sweetly, in Russian.

“ _You’re welcome,_ ” she responded, and grinned at his glare.

They moved over onto the mats and he turned back to his punching bag. They were probably stretching. He was not going to look. He punched a few times, pulling the punches with his left hand so the bag didn’t explode … again. Stark kept reinforcing them, but he hadn’t found the right level yet.

There was a scuffle that sounded like pads being strapped to someone’s arms. So there was going to be some kind of combat training. So what? He was not going to look.

Something smacked against a pad, and even though he’d been expecting it, it was hard not to jump.

“Not bad,” Nat said. “You’re dropping your shoulder on that left cross, though. Try it again.”

She did. A few more smacks sounded, but he could tell they weren’t fully connecting. The back of his neck itched with the urge to turn around. He kept up his own rhythm as he slid a step to the side, then another. He still wasn’t looking … but they were in his peripheral vision now. He slid them a critical, sidelong glance.

Darcy obviously wasn’t a beginner, but just as obviously she was used to hitting a predictable target in a predictable pattern: cross, cross, jab. In a real fight, the dropped shoulder would be the least of her worries.

“You can get more of your weight behind it,” Nat said. “Punch _through_ the pad.”

Darcy tried again. Bucky felt himself nod approval when the blow hit with a solid smacking sound. The next one did the same. Her cheeks were flushed and sweat was beginning to roll between her shoulder blades.

That combination made him think of some things that hadn’t crossed his mind in … well. In a while. Things about lipstick and curves and the scratch of bricks against his back in some alley he would have sworn he didn’t remember until just now. Things full of words like _doll_ and _sweetheart_. Things that smelled like perfume and sounded like slow, soft jazz.

Things that were definitely going to fuck his world up, if he let them.

Natasha said something he didn’t catch, and Darcy laughed. 

“When — do I get — to strangle — someone — with my thighs?” she panted.

The mental image of her, flushed and panting like that with her thighs wrapped around his head, hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. He turned around and left the gym, not caring when the door slammed behind him.

***

That night, he dreamed someone was kidnapping Darcy. He was stuck too far away, his body moving through mud, unable to get to her. She was trying to fight them off, but she wasn’t good enough — he could see the moves she needed to make, but she didn’t know them. She just kept punching, cross, cross, jab, as they carried her away.

He woke up covered in sweat, and spent the rest of the night flipping camera feeds from empty hallway to empty hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi, hello, hi, have some introspection and pining! 
> 
> I got stuck on this bit for a while. This Bucky reallllly doesn't want to talk to Darcy, but don't worry, Natasha and I will fix that.
> 
> What is Natasha's nefarious plan? Will they exchange more than three words? What ever happened to the purple spatula? Tune in next time to find out!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy needs someone to help her practice self-defense. If only there was a highly skilled supersoldier nearby...
> 
> Avoiding her might keep Bucky safe, but this will keep _her_ safe. When you put it like that, it's not much of a choice.

Darcy and Natasha trained every three days. 

The second time they came in, Bucky walked right out and went to play hide-and-seek with Clint. (He won. Obviously.) 

The third time, he’d caught on to the pattern. Instead of working out that afternoon, he went to the common kitchen and taught himself to make goulash using a recipe from the internet. When it was done, the flavor was oddly familiar, bringing up echoes of cold rooms in concrete buildings, warm vodka, and the smell of blood on dust. He ate it slowly, trying to figure out if the feeling was good or bad. Both, he decided eventually. He gave the rest to Steve, who smiled while he ate it and gave him a rough one-armed hug as a thank you.

The fourth workout day, Bucky sat down on a weight bench in the shadowy back corner of the gym and waited for them. He didn’t move when they came in, and Darcy didn’t even notice him. Nat did, of course. She smirked at him. He gave her the finger.

The two of them warmed up and stretched. He tried not to watch, because sitting here was weird enough without leering at them like some kind of Peeping Tom. He wasn’t here for that. He wasn’t sure why he _was_ here, but not for that.

They got out the pads again. Darcy was practicing kicks today.

“There’s a lot you can do against someone who underestimates you,” Natasha said, spacing her words between the smacking sounds. “Most male opponents will think that because they’re bigger and stronger, they don’t have to work to subdue you. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s always going to be better to fight someone who’s not really trying.”

Darcy laughed. “Yeah, I love it when kidnappers phone it in.”

“Hmm — get that knee a little higher,” Nat said. She raised the pad, but Bucky could tell it was an awkward angle for her. She couldn’t see Darcy’s form as well. “It would really help if we had someone bigger for you to practice with.”

Oh. So that was why he was here. It felt less like a realization, and more like something he’d known all along. He closed his eyes and swallowed. The dream from last week still sat heavily in the back of his mind. Avoiding her might keep him safe, but this … this would keep _her_ safe.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and stepped out into the light.

Darcy shrieked. Her next kick went wild, overbalancing her and dropping her to the mat. “Jesus, dude,” she gasped, “we are so even. If I had a spatula, you’d be dead right now.”

“A spatula?” Nat said.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You had to be there,” he told her, and offered Darcy a hand up. It was the metal hand, but she took it without hesitation. “Okay, doll,” he said when she was on her feet, “try that again.”

“Try —” She gaped at him. “What like, right now? With you? Isn’t that bad for your PTSD or something?”

Oh, good. Someone had given her his file. He made a mental note to find out who it was and fill their shoes with maple syrup. Non-lethal retaliation was one of his favorite hobbies now that lethal retaliation was off the table.

“Not really,” he said mildly. The truth was, it was the opposite. The gym was one of the few places where he almost never lost time, or his voice. He knew who he was here, and what to do, and he was good at it. Not fighting -- he didn't like hurting people, so he didn't do that anymore. But training with the team? Helping them stay sharp so they could keep each other safe? That was something else. Something good.

She glanced at Natasha, who nodded confirmation. That stung a little, but Darcy barely knew him, after all. “Okay,” she said, and took her stance, but then didn’t move. Bucky raised his eyebrows and waited. “Um … shouldn’t you be getting pads?”

He shrugged. “I won’t let you make contact anywhere that would hurt you.”

“Anywhere that would hurt _me?_ ” she said, and to his confusion she looked a little mad. “Listen, buddy, I know you’re all about those old-timey values, but if you’re just going to pat me on the head you can fuck right off again. I’m not doing this to be cute. If I make contact, _I’m_ going to hurt _you._ ”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t think — I didn’t mean —” He stopped, took a breath for a count of three, and tried again. “It doesn’t matter if you hurt me. But …” he rapped the knuckles of his right hand against his left arm with a hollow clanking sound. “Metal. You could break something.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding just as surprised. “Right. Sorry, I uh … kind of forgot?”

Huh. That was … huh. People didn’t usually forget about that. They were usually very aware of being in a room with a cyborg killing machine. He gave her a hard look, searching for signs that she was screwing with him, but her blue eyes were clear and steady on his face.

Then she frowned, and he tensed for whatever rejection was coming. “Wait a minute. Did you say it doesn’t _matter_ if I hurt you?”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting either. He shot a baffled glance at Natasha, but she just shrugged. “Yeah?”

“What — why would you — no.” The frown turned into a glare, and she propped her hands on her hips. He tried not to look. God, she was pretty. “It matters to me,” she snapped. “Go get pads.”

 _It … what?_ He froze, trying to make the words make sense.

She took in his expression, and her own face softened from irritation into something gentle and pinched around the eyes. “It matters,” she said again, her voice soft and hurt.

Natasha cleared her throat.

Bucky had to hide a jolt. He hadn’t forgotten she was there, he just. Wasn’t expecting her to cough. Yeah. 

She smiled at him, the brat. “Dashyenka,” she said briskly, “your heart is in the right place, but James heals fast. I doubt you could damage him with anything less than a tank. Besides, pads are for drills, and you drill with me. When you work with him, you fight for real.”

Darcy pushed a piece of hair out of her face, still frowning at him. “I don’t want to fight you for real,” she said.

He felt himself smile a little. “I can act like a jerk, if that helps,” he offered. “Steve says I’m real good at it.”

“Steve’s one to talk,” she snorted. “He keeps busting into the lab and starting arguments with Tony, and then no one gets anything done all day. Last time it happened, I had to threaten to kneecap him with a stapler. Which,” she added thoughtfully, “I could actually do, because of these lessons. So … okay.” She got back into her stance. “I really can’t hurt you? You promise?”

“Promise,” he said absently. He was stuck on the casual way she’d mentioned threatening a guy twice her size with office supplies. Who _was_ this dame? He was starting to think the dancing and the smiles and the cute hats had given him entirely the wrong idea.

“Okay then. Come at me, bro.” 

“Other way around, doll,” he reminded her. 

She squared up and kicked him, a tentative roundhouse to his right side. He let it land, hitting with barely more force than a nudge, then grabbed her foot and held it in place. 

“You need to keep your center of gravity over that other leg,” he said. “You’re not grounded, and that means you ain’t got full power, but also …” he pushed her leg gently, and she toppled to the mat. He was pleased to note that she turned and fell properly, flat on her back with her chin tucked. 

“Yeesh, it’s like kicking a brick wall,” she muttered, but bounced back to her feet. 

This time, he could see the kick was going to be solid before it even connected. He braced himself and let that one land too, the pain flaring and fading as his healing factor kicked in. “Good,” he said, slightly breathless, “you feel the difference?” 

“Yeah!” She bounced on her toes a couple of times and grinned like the sun. “Look at me, I’m a total badass.” 

He grinned back. 

Her mouth fell open and she blinked a couple of times. “Whoa,” she said, and her voice was a little higher than normal. “Hell- _lo,_ Sergeant. You save that for special occasions?” 

Any other place, any other time, he’d have panicked and run at that tone in her voice. Now, he actually felt his grin get wider. The fizz in his blood was half flirtation and half triumph to still be standing here. “Maybe I just like girls who can beat me up,” he said, and felt his heartbeat kick higher when her eyes went wide. 

“Good,” Natasha said, “now punch him in the face while he’s distracted.” 

She did.

He licked his split lip and wondered if this was what love felt like. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Came Here to Write Some Cute Flirting and Now I Have All These Feels: An Autobiography
> 
> _(ps. Uncle Bucky says: Tuck your chin when you fall, kids! It keeps your brains from shaking around!)_


End file.
